life, in snippets

In the course of a discussion with Nexy today, she suggested I could use canned or frozen shrimp, if I attempt to make nasi goreng. (I discovered this for the first time thanks to an awesome food place near work, and NOMNOMNOM.)

My brain, being the quicksmart place it is, just went “Whoa. Dude. Fish IN CANS. How weird is that?”

Apparently my brain has never processed the contents of my food cupboard. Which includes canned salmon and tuna (most often, this is fed to the cat; occasionally it ends up in pasta). D’oh!

I felt guilty at work today. After getting the third complaint in as many workdays, I finally had to ask Boss to tell NewGirl to get her act together about a couple of things. I’ve been trying to help her, and she’s just not taken my advice on board. I’ve known she’s been annoying people; I’m not hassling her for my own benefit, or because I dislike her. But, at the end of the day, I am not her manager; and if our callers are complaining, she needs to be Told.

So, Boss spoke with her. Apparently she was a bit miffed that I’d mentioned the complaints to Boss, not directly to her. When he explained that he’s listened to me trying to help her for weeks, and the behaviour is still occurring, she finally backed down. I guess we’ll see if she shapes up. Sigh. She’s a nice girl, and she’s trying hard (and learning!) but… common sense failure on too many things.

Despite this, she did earn some brownie points today.

I’d had a frustrating series of emails with a marketing drone who flatly refused to believe that what I was saying was technologically and factually accurate. After about four emails, and a couple of red herrings, I got bored, and asked her to phone us.

NewGirl’s phone rings.

“Service Desk, this is NewGirl, how can I help? Oh, you’ve been talking to Mahal. Mmhmm. Would you like me to put you through to her? Oh. No, it’s OK, she’s right h… oh. Anyone BUT Mahal … ?”

Blink. Blink. Coworkers within ear shot spun round, stared at the phone, and started laughing. As for NewGirl, I have never seen anyone’s face express “What the fuck?” that clearly.

“Well, you see, I’m fairly new here. Mahal sits next to me, and she actually trained me.”
“You can talk to me if you like, sure.”
“Well, yes, but if you ask a question I don’t understand, I will simply put you on hold and ask her.”
“Yes. Mmhmm. OK. Right. I’m sorry, I don’t know the answer to that, I need to ask Mahal.”
“Well, you can wait while Mahal explains the answer to me, or you can just talk to her yourself.”

Drone was eventually forced to believe that, surprisingly enough, I do know how to do my job. Her manager was conferenced in, at Drone’s request, and ended up apologising to me for Drone’s stupidity.

NewGirl +1, Mahal +1, Drone 0.

I figure going from “Gnngh, Sharkie’s engine is thoroughly bolloxed” to “I have a new car” in less than four days isn’t actually too bad.

Tuesday morning, the garage explained that Sharkie’s big end bearings had [something-or-other'ed], requiring an engine rebuild or replacement. Or a new car, which is actually cheaper.

I will miss my Sharkie girl.

However, being the practical Mahal I am, I trotted down to the bank, and politely asked for an extension on my bank loan. Tobermory and I had the cash for a new car, but it’s easier to keep the cash for those horrible ohshit moments, and ask the bank for assistance for things they approve of. Like cars.

Thursday, I collected Sharkie. The garage had not charged for the inspection. This is a new garage, not the ones who’ve screwed us over about her. I am already liking them.

Wednesday and Thursday, I conversed with various people selling their cars on Trademe. And Thursday, I collected Colitis for moral assistance and possession of car knowledge, and went to investigate a little Mazda. I had also recruited the assistance of a Car Inspector, which proved to be the best $125 I have ever spent in my life.

Friday, also with the assistance of Colitis, the rental car was returned, monies were exchanged for new-car-keys, and the new car was collected. She needs a little TLC – the engine needs a tune and a oil change, and one of her door locks does not respond to keys, due to an unenthusiastic break in attempt.

She is dubbed Buzby, and has been claimed by Tobermory as his. His driving style has never really suited Sharkie – he’s always driven little hatchies, rather than a powerful sedan. You can be a lot cheekier in a car like Buzby, and that suits him.

She is a ’95 Mazda Familia. In good nick, according to the car inspector (did I mention BEST $125 EVER), and the insurance company told me I had a good deal. And as an added bonus, the letters of the number plate so resemble my name that every man and his dog have commented that I have a personalised plate.

It has been a busy week…